Contact
by ForeverSherlock221B
Summary: Waking up with a massive hangover after your brother stole your car for a hunting trip is never fun, but having a clueless angel pop in unexpected is even worse. After Sam 'borrows' the Impala for the weekend, Dean is stuck with nowhere to go with only an obnoxiously curious angel. However, Dean may be enjoying his company more than he lets on... One-Shot.


_Motherfucker..._ Dean thought as he glanced at the glowing green alarm clock on the bedside table. 12:00. What day was it? Saturday?

_Dammit._ His head was throbbing like hell. Moaning, he sat up in bed and rubbed his temples.

_Head pain? Check. Fuzzy sight? Check. Hangover. Of course._ He looked around. It was dark, the only light came from the clock, its faint glow casting tired shadows on the walls. He more than half-expected to see Sam's sleeping form on the other bed, but when he glanced over, the covers hadn't even been touched.

_The hell?_ He thought. His throbbing head protested as he reached for his cellphone. Flicking it on, he scrolled through the messages, the glowing blue screen making him squint. 10:30. Sam Winchester. He pressed the play button and listened.

"Hey Dean, it's Sam. Listen, I got an emergency call from Garth, he says there might be a case of a Skinwalker that's been killing off the residents of a town called Dutton, a bit west of here. Anyway, you looked like you were more than ready for bed, so I thought you'd like to sit this one out."

_Please don't say you took the Impala..._

"I took the Impala, so you'll be on your own for a bit. Anyway, get some rest, and you may want to make sure you aren't bleeding internally or anything, that was a hell of a fight you got yourself into. Just sit tight, and I'll see you soon."

_What a little bitch, he took my car!_ Dean stewed silently in bed for a while, then forced himself up. The room was messy, as usual; just the way Dean liked it. Sam would have complained, but he was gone, and, he thought smugly, he had left his laptop behind. Time for a little internet "browsing."

However, nothing seemed to be jumping out at him tonight. Asian girls and octopi? Nope. African women sleepover? Not hitting anything. Sighing angrily, he closed the lid of the laptop. The half-drunk bottle of whiskey on the bedside table was starting to look pretty appealing, and he was just about to reach over to grab it when-

"What were you looking at?" came a voice from behind him. Dean groaned. The angel.

"Kittens and rainbows, Cass." He said exasperated.

"Oh, for a moment I thought it might have been the pizza delivery guy again." Dean rolled his eyes, and arched his head back.

"What do you want? To talk to Sam? Bummer, he's not here."

"I'm not here to see Sam." The angel's forcefulness surprised him.

"Then what're you bumming around here for? Don't you have anything else to do? You know, angel stuff? Answering people's prayers and shit?" Castiel frowned and looked thoughtful. Minutes passed, and he finally spoke.

"I-I don't know. Maybe..." His eyes nervously ran the length of Dean's body. It was then Dean consciously realized he wasn't wearing a shirt. For the first time in ages, he felt heat rise to his face. He got up to put his shirt on, and Castiel asked,

"What're you doing?"

_What was he doing?_ Putting his shirt on, common decency!

"Common decency" he said. Common decency... when had that ever mattered to him? Why now?

"I- it doesn't matter to me. Why would it?" Castiel said.

"Oh yes, because that's novel to angels, putting on a shirt. Is that another one of humanity's stupid traits?" he looked confused.

"All of it is. Your habits, your emotions... your..."

"Our what?"

"Your need for contact."

"Our need for contact. That explains a lot. Well, unlike you crazy asexual-budding angels, we actually like to enjoy ourselves sometimes. You know. Because we're normal? Or do I have to explain the birds and bees to you?" Dean felt an angry surge of embarrassment again. What was the angel getting at?

"Birds… and bees?" All Castiel looked was confused.

_Stupid-ass angel_, he thought. Why was he so furious? Although sometimes Cass frustrated him, he had never felt like this. Nothing would have suited him more than giving him a shove, maybe to make his point. His hands on his chest… contact… what on earth was his brain trying to tell him to do?

"...don't really get any of it, you humans…" Castiel was still talking. What should he do? He was beginning to feel panicky.

"..pizza delivery guy…" Fuck it.

"...maybe not so bad- mph!" Dean pressed his lips against his, the force of his kiss muffling the moan from Cass's chest. He pushed him up against a wall and began undoing his shirt.

"Well choir boy, I guess it's your lucky day. No Sunday school for you tomorrow."


End file.
